Age Of Treason - Donovan

On a lone and windy hilltop beneath a roof of tin
In a little wallpapered bedroom I done my growin'.
'Twas there I dreamt my dreams, there I hung my jeans
And wandered through puberty as all do.

My mother was a tight knot bound up with false guilt
Strapped up in her fearing wall she had built.
An independent girl in a dark and cruel world
She'd lost the way to say, "OK, now lay back".

We disagreed on most things, I shouted peace and love
The family of mankind, the symbol of the dove.
She only saw the surface of things before her face
But I was young and argued on for hours.

My father he liked poetry, a scholar he might have made.
Had he not been born a poor boy, barefoot and underpaid
So the man worked with his hands up and down the land,
His dream forgot, he thought that I must follow.

With his Marxist worker's wisdom he'd read a thing or two
He once had been a Mason but he never followed through.
Always kind and thoughtful, smelling of machine oil
And he read me poetry of visionaries.

I flunked my way to college, a looser kind of school
Bought me borrowed play time, arty, feeling cool
Just to live an artist, diggin' the ravin' scene
Reading Kerouac and Ginsberg well juiced.

I was not academic, Art and English Lit,
The history of mankind I liked that a bit.
And what was I to do? The choices they were few,
A down right disgrace to the working classes

A down right disgrace to the working classes
A down right disgrace to the working classes
A down right disgrace to the working classes